Thursday, March 31, 2011

"Tecate Tales - Part Three"

I often wonder what the workers at this spa, engaged in arduous physical labor, make of the guests here, who shell out substantial sums of money, paying people to drive them mercilessly into sweaty exhaustion. The descriptive that comes to mind is:

Loco.

Despite my best efforts to avoid any form of physical exercise, it turns out that an unexpected exertion has arisen as a result of my posting while spa-ing. Here's what's been happening.

There is no Internet connection in the rooms, only in the communal lounge. So, every morning, I take my computer to the lounge and write these postings, and then I publish them.

When I'm finished, I pack up my computer, and head back to my room. I set the computer on a table, I plug it in, and I prepare to commit the rest of day to doing absolutely nothing.

So far so good.

I'm in the room a few minutes,

When suddenly,

A thought comes to me that will make the posting I have just written better.

Well, I can't do my rewrite in the room, because there's no Internet in the room. What is now required is for me to unplug my computer, go out of the room, and return to the lounge. There, I sit down, turn on my computer, go back to the posting, and make my ameliorating change.

Hoping I remember what that change was through the intervening time. Which is far from a certainty.

After I've made my correction, I, once again, pack up my computer, and trudge back to my room.

At which point, after a few minutes...

Are you ahead of me? I would be.

Yes, that's right. I'm back in my room a short time, when, once again, a blazing insight flashes into my brain as to how to make the posting better. A small change to be sure. But unquestionably an improvement.

What can I do?

I pack up my computer, and it's back to the lounge.

How many times do I accomplish this unwelcome round trip?

As many as it takes. Until I have no more ideas for making the posting better.

Which could involve half a dozen retracings of my steps. Or more.

(Working at home, it's different. I simply sit at my desk and make changes, till I can't think of any more. And then I get up. There is no ambulation involved whatsoever.)

Of course, the whole "back and forth" process is entirely voluntary. I could sign off after the first version. Nobody would know that it could have been better, right?

I'd know.

(In fact, there are times, not many but some, when I have actually gone back and rewritten postings I have already published. Posterity deserves no less.)

("Full disclosure" confession: Our room is the closest room to the lounge. So the exertion is manageable.)

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How has the spa changed over the years? Well, long ago, when the prices were lower, the range of the clientele was considerably broader. Now, as one guest insightfully observed:

"Everyone I've talked to is the head of something."

Dr. M feels the same way about the change. She liked it better when teachers and librarians could afford to come. I once mentioned her complaint to the late Molly Ivins, an insightful and funny political commentator from Texas, who happened to be visiting here when I was. On the last day, when I was leaving, Ms, Ivins called me over, and in her distinctive Texas accent, drawled,

"Tell yer wahve that the teachuhs still come heah in the summah when it's cheap!"

I suppose we could come heah in the summah. But we don't.

'Cause it's hawt.

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I think I'm done for today. Though I'm sure something will come to me when I get back to the room.